A Deadly Game of Chance
by xxxPURPLExVIOLETSxxx
Summary: It was a bullet that ended Sam's life and ruined everyone else's. And when given the chance to change the course of time and events, Freddie immediately took it, not knowing that someone else's life is at stake. WARNING: HEAVY DRAMA!
1. Death Affects Lives

It was a gunshot heard for miles.

Most may see that statement as a figure of speech but some can sense some truth behind it. Take Melanie Puckett as an example. She woke up in the middle of the night in her boarding house in Phoenix, crying for some unknown reason. Or Colonel Shay, who felt the urge to call his daughter despite the fact that there's no reception in his submarine underwater. But those who were nearer felt a harder impact. Seattle literally stood in a standstill. Its citizens remembered the times when they complained how God sent someone like her to plague their neighborhoods. But that reminiscence was overshadowed with the question of how they're going to go back to their lives without her constant presence. Those who knew who she was gave out a unison of gasps, then a chorus of sobs. They all held on to the morning newspaper, welling eyes staring at the image of her bloodstained clothes, her lustrous blonde locks taking over most of her face, a cover most people are thankful for. It was almost too painful to read the article below the grotesque picture. _The body of a 16 year old girl, known as the local menace, was found in an alley at one o'clock earlier this morning. She was killed at around 9:00 last night with two bullets pierced through her, one in her chest and the other one through her left wrist. Investigations identified Gerard Sulley and Joe Foley as the primary suspects._ The article was neglected though, its words unnecessary. It's because there are only four words running through the minds of its readers:

Sam Puckett is dead.

Her soul's departure influenced many reactions. But only those who were dear to her experience the real damage.

Carly Shay, the girl who always looked up to her best friend for much needed courage, who never did learn how to be strong, who received most of the sympathies from Sam's death, who had to bear everyone's gazes of pity, realized how bare and vulnerable she really is without her pillar of strength. Thus, she succumbed to the pressure of developing a thicker skin. She pushed away those who wanted to comfort her, stating that she doesn't need anyone, that she's sick of being treated as a helpless girl. She later on lived a life of seclusion. Her fear of being left by those who love her lead her to be afraid to love at all.

Spencer Shay, who saw Sam as a bundle of eccentricity and gaiety, who referred to her as his other sister, who tried to supply the parental security her mother has never been able to provide, who understands her need to be different, now see her death as an eye opener. He comprehended the reality that everything has to go. And as he watched his little sister emotionally detach herself from everyone, including him, the responsibility of being a better guardian took over him. The beauty of art no longer inspired him. He began to see matters in a realistic perspective. After finishing his course in law school, he spent the rest of his life sitting in a cubicle with nothing but financial and familial problems to think of. He turned into the person he before despised: a normal adult.

Pam Puckett, the mother who never did found out how to show her affections to Sam, who had her daughter as the only reason to stay out of jail, who secretly thought of her as the only thing she did right, who looked at her with pride for she can never turn out like her wasted mother, now referred to her murder as the final straw. She blamed herself for her death, thinking that she could've been a better parent and prevent the murder from taking place. She lost all hope of turning her life around for her daughter. Instead, she went back to the life that was put off because of her love for Sam. She continued her drug business and was busted after a month of operation. She ended up in prison. The only consoling thought in her head is that she deserves this, after the way she let Sam to be killed just like that.

Ridgeway Middle School was never the same after the incident. Despite the two weeks of grieving period, the atmosphere remained heavy. Sam's schoolmates stop by her locker, recalling how she would shove random passers-by against it. The water fountain, the one she once kicked out of frustration for failing her final exams, now held a special meaning to her teachers, regretting how hard they were with her. The school bullies were suddenly understood by their peers. The teachers started being more considerate to those who had difficulty in classes. All these seem to be their final homage and apology to the irreplaceable Sam Puckett.

All of these happened because of that fateful day. It was at that day that Freddie was deprived of peace of mind. Grief haunted him everywhere, probably because Sam had her way of stamping her memories all over town. But there's this certain place where Freddie goes to everynight, a place that held a special meaning for both him and Sam.

It has been a month after Sam's murder. The changes are still developing around. To Freddie, it was a silent but evident progress. But at that moment, he still hasn't grasped the weight of changes coming his way. Carly's total seclution. Spencer's 360 degrees life change. Pam's downfall.

With his blue foldable chair, he went out of his apartment and went for the elevator. The hum of the mechanism spoke to him, making him think of the numerous times he got stuck in it because Sam would always press the emergency stop button at the lobby. The contraption stopped at the 12th floor, letting Freddie out to go to his silent sanctuary. He walked through the maze-like hallways with mindless familiarity. Soon, he reached his destination. He stepped into the fire escape, set his chair in its usual position, overlooking the magnificent city skyline that now seems bland to his eyes. He turned the stereo on. The song was stuck in repeat. He doesn't mind it. In fact, that's the way he wanted it to be. It was the song that was playing when he had his first kiss. With Sam.

_Did I tell you I knew your name,_

_But it seems like I lost it._

He got lost in the lyrics, recalling how the entire scene played out in this fire escape. Every now and then, he would turn his head around, hoping to see her behind him, the way she entered before. But that prospect never happened.

She's never coming back.

He can never tell her how much he loves her.

**oOo**

It was a dream that always crept into his slumber. He fantasizes how he could've made a difference. He walked into the alley, the one that he avoids in real life. It looks the same in every dream. The same fly-attracting dumpster. The same puddle-filled pavement. The same sense of anticipation. The two men were right in front of him. They can't see him but their faces are etched on his brain. They're the ones that escaped from the gigantic pants sculpture Spencer once brought home, the same people who duct taped him, Carly and Sam to the chairs. Then, a shadow came to view. It was Sam's. Freddie hurried aside, for some irrational fear that she might see him. She said something, accusingly pointing at the two convicts. Freddie inwardly cursed, hating how these dreams are always in mute. He watched the men throw their heads back, laughing. Disbelief morphed into Sam's face. She retorted words that Freddie was sure angered the muscular duo in front of him. They walked to her slowly, tauntingly. Sam grabbed a piece of wood. But it was soon sent flying off her hands as one of the men fired a gunshot on her arm. There must've been pain but she was too shocked to reciprocate it. Another shot got rid of all possible feelings she could sense. It was through her heart.

Freddie wasn't there when it really happened. But in his dreams, he was. And even there, he becomes crippled with fear. His legs were paralyzed, making him incapable of even attempting to block the shot. He was powerless at what he would soon see. Her bloody body, defenseless for the first and last time. The two murderers making a run for it, no one to stop them. The wood that could have saved her lying in front of him. And every time, he would wake up feeling more depressed than ever.

This time however, the ending turned out to be different.

He winced, about to watch the bullet hit Sam's unsuspecting arm, when the most unusual thing happened. It stopped at its tracks. In fact, everything stopped. Except him.

_Didn't expect that to happen, did you?_, a Voice boomed, seemingly coming from nowhere and reverberating everywhere.

Freddie looked around, slowly stepping back to the main street. His hunches were right. The Voice did come from nothing. But that's normal. It's only just a dream, right? "No." he replied, thinking that there's no harm in answering back. With caution, he continued, "This isn't exactly how these dreams end."

_Hmmm_, the Voice mused. It was only then did Freddie hear how sonorous and masculine the Voice was. _How did your dreams usually end?_

"Sam," he started, only to find himself pausing. He took in the fact that he hasn't said that name for weeks now. As if digesting that realization, he gulped and went on. "Sam… dies."

_An ending no one really likes to see. But… you see it every night._

Freddie grimly nodded, though he's unsure if the Voice can see him.

_It would've been nice, right?_

"What?'

_To turn back time. To keep you from having these nightmares. To stop asking yourself what would've happened._

"What… what are you saying?" he took another look around, considering that maybe someone's pranking him. But then again, this is nothing but a dream.

_How would you like to get another chance? To go over that significant and tragic day?_

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" his tone wavered, emotions pushing through his words. Hope. Confusion. Redemption. Doubt. Regret. You name it, his mind has it.

_You'll find out soon_, the Voice said, beginning to fade out. _Make the most of it,_ he reminded as the dream came to an end.

**oOo**

He didn't think about that dream when he woke up. He figured that it's just his conscience talking to him. The conscience that's still in denial about Sam's death a month ago. His pajama-clad legs broke free from the Galaxy Wars blanket. His body felt heavy, the way it has been for a while. Trying to ignore the emotional weight boring him down, he walked to the dining room. All of a sudden, his mom had her palms pushed against his forehead.

"Are you alright?" she said, pulling a thermometer from her pocket.

"I'm fine!" he blurted against the thermometer jammed into his mouth. "Seriously, there's nothing wrong."

He felt his mother's hand loosen at his shoulder. "Then why did you wake up late? It's Monday and you didn't wake up to go to school! So I figured that you're sick and excused you from today's classes."

Freddie threw her a bewildered look and stated, "I have no classes today! It's Saturday."

"No." she stared at her confused son with concern. "It's Monday. October 15th. Are… are you sure you're fine?"

Freddie felt weak, so limp that his legs gave up and forced him down on the chair. He had his head on his hands, as if too heavy with scrambled thoughts to be held by his neck alone. But one thought reigned above the rest.

This was the day Sam died.

**oOo**

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	2. Questions Affect Trust

Chances are to be contemplated carefully. These only come to those who deserve them. And after everything they all went through, Freddie thought he's the lucky one. But luck had nothing to do with this. He couldn't see it but everyone gave up. They all surrendered to the difficult changes that Sam's passing away brought. No one bothered to look for hope. No one but him. He's not the lucky one. He's the deserving one.

Freddie decided to go to school that afternoon. He doesn't care if he missed his morning classes. All he can think of is to make sure all of these are real. He needs to see Sam. So, he stepped into the Ridgeway Middle School, the place that would be covered with grief and remorse tomorrow if he screws this opportunity up. His chocolate brown eyes scanned his surroundings, developing a sense of yearning of what was before. He didn't even know how much he missed the light ambiance that once enveloped the building until now. His gaze fell on Sam's locker. The unofficial school memorial is still nothing but a piece of metal cubicle. He ran his fingers on the dents that were made out of his head impacting the locker door, wishing that tomorrow Sam could still slam him against it. If that came true, he would take a thousand more of her beatings with a smile on his face.

His musings halted at the familiar sound of hurried footsteps. She's coming, he thought. Only Sam Puckett can cause that frenzy of panic and fear. And as expected, a multitude of students ran past him, scared of being caught by her sight. He even caught someone crying with terror. Music to his ears.

"How can you say that to her?" Carly's voice entered his audible range. "She didn't mean to do that."

"I don't care what she means. She did what she did and it's her fault. Who does she think she is, stepping on my foot like that?" her companion sourly retorted.

Carly finally saw him standing in front of their lockers. "Hey Freddie," she greeted with a smile that Freddie haven't seen for a long time, "Why weren't you in class this morning?"

"I… I didn't feel good when I woke up," he answered, struggling with words. "But I'm fine now." His eyes stared at Sam's annoyed look and repeated, "Finer than I've been in weeks."

Her face contorted into another expression. "Okay, if you're still looking at me like that for the next second, I swear I'd make your eyes bleed," she threatened with disgust.

Oh, how he missed those threats. "Do whatever you want to do with me," he remarked with silent bravado. His mind continued the statement, "Just don't disappear."

Oblivious of his thought, Sam shoved past him and walked to her locker. "Whatever. I have no time for you right now." She pulled out a baseball bat from the compartment. "I have a schedule with Rebecca Berkowitz." A devilish smile crept on her face as she gazed at the bat with amusement.

"Sam," Carly groaned. "Put down the bat and leave the girl alone." She held out her dainty hand. Sam sighed and reluctantly gave her the bat. Freddie remained silent, reflecting on how Carly's the only person who can handle Sam's aggressiveness. Carly was wrong, he thought. She's a lot more capable than she thinks. "And besides," the brunette added, taking Sam by the elbow, "the bell's about to ring. We have to go back to class."

Sam let herself be dragged by her best friend. She felt herself unconsciously looking back, back to Freddie's slumping figure. There's something different going on with him. That much she knew. Carly probably didn't notice it because his back was facing her, but Freddie's eyes were welling up. She's certain of it because his eyes were on her throughout the encounter despite her intimidations. Her mouth decided to stay shut. Sam's not cruel enough to insult someone who's emotionally fragile. Especially if that someone can handle her punches everyday without shedding a tear.

Freddie watched them walk away, deciding to stay behind for he still have to grab his books from his own locker. He grabbed his things mechanically, his head too preoccupied. That tiny conversation with a hospitable Carly and a living Sam that would've meant nothing to anyone struck him. There's no way he can live without those small talks, those interactions by their lockers, those empty death threats.

He's gonna do whatever it takes to keep Sam from dying.

**oOo**

He spent the rest of the afternoon behind his apartment door, his eye against the peephole, waiting for Sam to walk by. A half hour later, she came with a smoothie on her hand. It's in Chocolate Chicken flavor, he guessed. It was her favorite and it became the specialty of Groovy Smoothie when she passed away.

"Hey," Freddie accosted, coming out of his apartment.

Sam gave him a wary look, unsure if he's still upset for some reasons still unknown. "Hey."

"Can we, you know… talk?" Freddie asked, trying to sound casual but failed.

"That depends." She gave him a shrug. "What do you want to talk about?"

Freddie paused, as if considering what words to say. "I need to ask you a favor."

She turned and went for the Shay apartment. "Then we don't have anything to talk about."

Sam was about to grab the doorknob when Freddie rushed and pushed the door back. "Please, I just need you to shut up and hear me out."

She had her fists balled up beside her. "Oh no. You did _**not**_ just tell me to shut up." Her voice was colored with disbelief.

"I said shut up," he snapped. Only desperation can drive him to as drastic measure as telling Sam to shut up. And right now, he's completely helpless. "Look, I don't care if you would kill me and sell my internal organs after this but right now, I need you to listen to me."

His stern tone reduced Sam to speechlessness.

So he went on. "All I'm asking you is to stay in. Have a sleepover at Carly's. Lock yourself in your room. I don't know. But please, promise me you won't go out tonight. I can't tell you why but there's huge stuff at stake here." He briefly halted, looking straight to her blue eyes, conveying her how serious he is. "Just promise me. I'm begging you. Don't go out."

She had never heard him this grave. "This is some serious chiz, isn't it?" she stated, her breathing uneven.

He limply nodded, panting out of exhaustion. Emotional exhaustion.

"And you're not telling me why?"

He evaded her question. "Stay here," he demanded forcefully and ran out, leaving behind him a very confused Sam.

**oOo**

Freddie's initial plan was to have Sam indoors and go back home and hope she'll obey. But knowing Sam, he wasn't too confident. He decided to go to the alley, make sure that Sam won't go near it. The possibility of his mother grounding him for the rest of his life for sneaking out didn't even enter his mind. He entered the restaurant and sat himself by the window, where he's got a perfect view of the cursed lane.

His eyes nervously glanced at his wrist watch. _8:30 PM._ Still no sign of the two convicts.

Then a gust of wind traveled through the restaurant as its entrance opened. And when the cold air came in contact with Freddie, it brought the sense of fear with it. He slowly glanced up, hoping that his guess is wrong. But his hopes were in vain.

A pair of muscular men made their way to the counter, overlooking the twitching kid at the corner of the restaurant. Freddie could recognize those twisted faces anywhere. After seeing them every night in his dreams, they're pretty hard to forget.

He cautiously stood up; praying that his heavy breathing isn't loud enough to catch attention. The walk to the door seemed to last an eternity even though it's just a few feet away. His journey was almost at its end when he felt himself bump into a wall. His hands pushed himself away from it, only to realize his misconception.

It was no wall.

"Watch it, kid!" a booming voice snapped. The same voice that Sam heard last when she died.

"I…uh," he searched for words. "I'm sorry." His legs wobbled with fright. But before he could look away, he saw the taller man, the one talking to the cashier, turned and looked at him with squinted eyes. The look of recognition. Depriving the man of another glimpse, Freddie made a hasty departure.

His weary feet ran through the road, making several cars screech to a halt. The cursing thrown at him by one of the drivers went past his head. He was too busy cursing himself. What was he thinking, coming here alone and unprotected? But the reason was pretty obvious. He's willing to disregard his safety as long as Sam's here. As long as she's in danger of dying.

And, as if to play a sick and twisted practical joke on him, his gaze caught Sam making her way towards him. He nervously looked back to the restaurant, looming across the street. "What are you doing here?" he said, running towards her.

"Going out tonight," she said with defiance.

"What?" he run his fingers frantically through his hair. He began pacing nervously. "What part of 'Don't go out tonight,' don't you understand?"

"The part where you wouldn't tell me why! Mama don't take no orders from anyone, especially to those who won't tell her why," she answered, asserting herself.

"Stop being so difficult!" Freddie said, screaming and whispering at the same time. He kept his eyes glued on the establishment. Much to his horror, the familiar silhouettes of the two men are making their way through the restaurant's glass doors. "Get out of here. Please!"

"Just tell me why!" the words came through Sam's gritted teeth.

"I… I can't tell you." His hands reached her shoulders, pushing her back, into the street corner. He was crying now. He had his head facing away from Sam, making her assume that he's hiding back his tears. But she's wrong. It's because he's watching the men getting nearer, almost on their way to the highway separating them. "Just hide here." He gently rammed her down behind a dumpster. The shadow cast by the apartment building beside it made her difficult to spot. All that Freddie could do is to hope that it's enough. When Sam tried to be resistant, Freddie insisted, "I'll tell you what's going on after it's over," not knowing that there won't be an 'after'. "Trust me."

For some miracle, Sam gave in. She sat back and watched him step away from her hiding place.

"Hey!" a deep voice called out. Sam found the caller, recognizing him and his companion as the prisoners who duct taped her and her friends to their chairs. They passed by her without knowing her presence. She was tempted to stand up but Freddie threw her a warning glare.

"Hey, kid!" the stocky looking man repeated when Freddie didn't respond. As soon as he made out Freddie's face as he reluctantly stepped out of the shadows, he looked at his cohort and remarked, "Ha, Joe, you _**are**_ right! He's that guy whose friend made those huge pants for us." He then diverted his attention back to the 16 year old boy, laughing, "Thank him for us, okay?"

"Sure," Freddie slipped his hands into his pockets nervously. "I… I will," he said, hoping that the two would take it as a signal that this conversation is ending and leave.

The short one understood and was about to walk away. But it was the other one that paused, as if realizing something. "Wait." His piercing eyes reached Freddie's; causing chills to run up the latter's back. "I remember one more thing. You're… you're that kid who threatened to call the police!"

The criminals stared at each other in silent communication then slowly walked towards the boy, their grins plastered on their menacing faces Freddie backed up into the alley.

_The alley._ Freddie shut his eyes tightly, anger rising up. Anger to himself. How stupid was he, not noticing that this is the alley in his dreams. The alley that served as Sam's last resting place. And he brought Sam in here.

At that moment, two scenes played through his eyes. The one happening right now, with the two escaped convicts and Sam tucked into the shadows. And the memory he tried to recreate a million times before.

'_I'm sorry…'_

Both Sam and Freddie saw the gun in Joe's pocket, glistening with the foreboding moonlight. But only one of them reacted.

'_...about telling people you never kissed anyone…'_

Sam jumped from her area of security and into the site of danger.

'…_and about putting blue cheese dressing in your shampoo bottle…'_

With her hands grabbing a piece of wood, she threatened, "Leave him alone or else…" The threat was answered with laughs from the ex-prisoners. At that, she angrily smacked the short one, Gerard, with her makeshift bat. Gerard was knocked down for the count.

'…_and about sending your cellphone to Cambodia…' _

"What are you doing?" Freddie yelled, his worst fears manifesting before him.

"Trying to save your sorry ass." Sam replied, turning to him. Big mistake.

'…_everything.'_

Joe grabbed her weapon from her unsuspecting hand and struck her unconscious.

'So_this mean you're not gonna mess with me anymore?'_

He stood there, paralyzed, the way he was in his countless nightmares. And it's not because of the gunpoint given by Joe to his trembling form. It's the fact that he failed. He screwed up.

'_No, I'm still gonna mess with you. I'm just gonna apologize every few years so I can start fresh again.'_

"Don't worry." Joe stated, as if reading his mourning thoughts. "Your girlfriend's not dead." His voice gapped for dramatic effect. "I don't know if I could say the same thing for you."

'_Good.'_

"Do you really think you could get away with it?" the man handling the gun questioned, stepping closer. His focused eyes watched Freddie cower back. "You almost cost us our freedom and there's no way I'll let some wimpy kid get me back to jail."

'_Good?'_

Freddie wasn't listening, his brown eyes on Sam, who was starting to regain her consciousness. Once wide awake, she was greeted with the sight of Freddie with a gun pressed against his chest. "Take a step closer and he'll die." Joe warned her, obviously aware of her motive to try to save him. Her teary eyes shifted between the weapon and Freddie, her mind going haywire with indecision.

"Run!" her friend screamed at her.

"Don't be stupid!" she replied, "I can kick this guy's ass and have you free."

'_Yeah. It'd be too weird if you didn't make my life miserable all the time…'_

Joe chuckled. "Don't be so sure, missy."

"You're the one being stupid, Sam! Just… just go." Freddie's voice shook, the touch of the gun against him making him tremble. His gaze fell on his wristwatch. A minute 'til 9:00 PM. "Trust me."

'…_you know_, _maybe you could pull back just a little bit?'_

And Sam did what he told her to do for the second time: to trust him. She disobeyed him earlier and look at where that get them. It was her final apology to him, for failing to trust him.

_'I don't think so.'_

She ran away, sobbing, her legs felt like twigs carrying her to the streets. She didn't take her eyes off that alley as she scampered off.

'_Yeah, I didn't either.'_

Only one thing made her look away. The sound of gunshot that was heard for miles.

**oOo**


End file.
